


Avery (II)

by IWannaDoBadThingsWithYou237



Series: Like A Little Recon Baby [10]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Foster Care, Future Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Original Character(s), Overdosing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:16:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWannaDoBadThingsWithYou237/pseuds/IWannaDoBadThingsWithYou237
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which everything comes full circle. </p><p>“Stephen’s only been back stateside six hours so when he comes out of one of the bars near Pendleton the last thing he needs is to see what looks like a blonde hair kid slumped against the side of his car clearly stoned” </p><p>“Move kid” he rasps the tone in place that earned him the nickname ‘Godfather’ in the first place. The kid looks up at him his eyes unfocused but yet so very, very blue. It makes him look…it makes him look like his brother…the little brother that died due to the shit that’s down this boy’s veins. </p><p>“What’s your name kid?” he asks gently as the boy groans. “Avery Montgomery” the kid slurs his hands scraping along the floor where there’s a discarded needle. “Sir” he says giving a mock salute. </p><p>In which Godfather ends up with a strange adoption/living situation with Brad's kid and ends up actually liking it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avery (II)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so this the final ending of my series Like A Little Recon Baby...
> 
> I wanted to revisit Avery and while I was stuck a friend mentioned making one of Brad's commanding officers his foster father and then this little project was born. 
> 
> This is fiction nothing but Avery is mine and everything is based on the portrayal of HBO's Generation Kill. 
> 
> I know nothing about either the adoption/foster care system or the USMC so if there are any inconsistences or inaccuracies I apologise I was just writing this for fun. Spelling and Grammar isn't my strong point so I apologise for any inaccuracies on that front as well. 
> 
> This is the longest thing I have ever written so enjoy

Pendleton clears up quickly. The Marine’s that have family weather nearby or a plane ride away disappear as quickly as they can get out the door, the ones that stay on base go out to get drunk as soon as they can. He just has a shitload of paperwork to do and then he wants to buy himself a decent bottle of scotch and go home.

He lives near the base in his own house and while he’s alone most of the time it’s better than dealing with the rest of the Recon officers who all bitch and moan about him when they think he’s not listening.

He’s just going to his car when he realises that something or someone is slumped against it.

That someone turns out to be a kid probably about fifteen who’s slumped against the car. He winces when he steps on glass and looks down on the syringe he’s just stepped on. Jesus the things the kids do to themselves these days.

“Move kid” he snaps because he has no time to deal with stupid teenagers who think it’s fun to pump their veins full of shit. His tone is the one that he knows is the reason the men call him ‘Godfather’. The kid groans and moves and that’s when Stephen gets a good look at his face.

The kid is nothing more than a teenager, he has a tuft of blonde hair that’s like butter, shaved sides with it all piled on top of his head, he’s skinny as fuck (and that’s saying something because he was in Iraq where the men only got one meal a day) his eyes are very, very blue, dark blue and so completely unfocused it’s scary.

It reminds him for one brief second of his brother, his brother who hadn’t been much older than this kid when he had died of the stuff that had been stuck into this kid’s bloodstream. It had been a bit of fun that had gone tragically wrong.

“What’s your name kid?” he asks gently. He supposes there’s nothing wrong with dropping the kid of at his house for his parents to sober him up. “Avery Montgomery” the kid slurs a smirk playing around his face “Sir” he adds with a mock salute.

“Ok kid” he says hauling him up by the elbow “Where’d you live, I’ll take you home to your parents”

“Aint got none” the kid says again looking helplessly broken like a blonde little ragdoll that with one push will fall over. “I’m a grateful member of the system” he spits his breathing shuddering.

 

 

 

 

Looking back he really doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, why the hell he says what he says. All he knows is that this is a kid in dire need of help and the thought of leaving him alone or in some group home really doesn’t sit right with him. Instinct has helped his survive this long he supposes it will help him this time.

Besides this kid couldn’t be more than 110 pounds, he could easily take him.

“Come on kid” he says throwing him in the direction of his car, “Get the fuck in before I change my mind” the kid looks at him stumbling slightly. “I aint a hooker” he says finally and Stephen rolls his eyes trying not to laugh.

“No but you’re a kid and some Marine is gonna eat you alive if you’re sleeping in the car park, if they don’t run you over”

For the most part the kid’s quiet in the car his whole body language a taunt line of tension which means he’s now realised that he’s in a car with a complete stranger or the fact that he’s finally coming of the high.

“How old are you?” he only asks to be polite but the kids mouth twists “Fifteen sir” he snarls his eyes red-rimmed.

Jesus.

His eyes flash downwards to see the kids hands form into fists. There’s puncture marks all the way up his wrists and the hands are shaking slightly, a second glance tells him that there’s dried blood and dirt under the nails and dirt on the skin.

 

 

 

 

He opens the door to his apartment letting the kid come in. he’s wearing ripped jeans stuffed into laced combat boots that are scuffed and muddy. His shirt is a simple grey long sleeve shirt with some slogan on it but it’s so faded he can’t even see it.

“Shower” he points to the room “Dump your clothes at the bathroom door and I’ll throw you in something while I wash yours” he pauses choosing his words carefully “Then I’ll cook us something and then you can tell me what a fifteen year old was doing hooked on drugs in a car park and then I’ll see if I’m ringing the social services”

As soon as the kid moves, (shooting him another suspicious look) Stephen turns around and breathes through his nose. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing or why the hell he’s trusting a teenage drug addict not to rob him blind. All he wanted was to eat shit in front of the TV tonight and not spend it worrying about one of the Recon Marine’s getting shot while he was out looking for a mission.

He takes the clothes and dumps them in the washer. He has some sweats that might be around the kid’s size and dumps them at the floor outside the bathroom. If he’s right and the kids an addict then he hopes he has nothing in the cabinet that’s gonna feed it. Last he checked he didn’t have any painkillers but he isn’t sure.

But there is something about this kid, this kid that looks like he’s been to hell and back with nobody to take care of him, he doesn’t like drugs like’s the people who deal them even less and the thought that someone has willingly given a kid like the one currently in the shower needles to stick in his brain makes him want to kill someone.

He watched his brother go down that road, his baby brother go down this route, had to pick him up smashed up in his car and hold his head while he puked up the shit in his veins. He watched Joe, the Joe he knew disappear until there was nothing left but a broken shell hooked on drugs. And then he overdosed and there was nothing left.

There’s a small noise behind him. The kid has changed into the clothes and they near as damn it drown him, his hair is still wet and now several shades lighter and he looks clean if not near exhausted.

“I checked your medicine cabinet” he says right of the beat and Stephen has to applaud him for honesty if nothing else. “You have nothing in there that’s gonna help me so there’s no point, you don’t even have Valium” he sounds completely put out.

“So you are a drug addict then?” he asks playing with the edge of the cooker. The kid shoots him another suspicious look “Obviously” he spits again, he pauses “So what do you want, you say you don’t want sex and you have no drugs so why the hell am I here?”

“God knows” he snaps back feeling angsty at this amount of concern he has for a kid. Once the pizza is cooked he passes it to the kid who immediately scoffs three slices down without even stopping looking starved. He looks at the clock and winces as it reads 21.39 he isn’t really up for a long drive to wherever this kid was staying.

And it’s not like instinct has ever failed him before. Instinct tells him that this kid won’t rob him blind tonight. Looking at the bags under his eyes he looks like he’s more likely to drop from exhaustion than shoot up another joint.

“You can stay the night, you try and rob me I’ll shoot you before you make it down my drive, you light up here and I’ll shoot you before you get it to your mouth we got it?”

The kid has the sense to nod.

Surprisingly he doesn’t rob him blind and leave in the dead of night.

 

 

 

 

When he wakes up and staggers into the kitchen dressed in his clean clothes he looks like a normal kid. If you could ignore the shaking of his hands from what Stephen suspects is withdrawal and the redness of the skin under his eyes he looks almost normal.

“Well this was fun” he forces out lacing up his boots “I suppose I’ll pray you don’t get shot”

“I suppose I hope you won’t die of the shit you pump through your veins” he shoots back and the kid has the audacity to smirk.

“Here” he says as an afterthought scribbling down his number “If you…” he doesn’t know what to say to the kid but he holds it out anyway.

The kid takes it looking surprised for a second before his face school’s himself into something that vaguely reminds Stephen briefly of Colbert’s famed Iceman mask.

“Whatever” he says taking the paper and folding it up in the back pocket of his jeans. And then he let himself out like nothing ever happened.

Stephen still had a few weeks off before he had to go back and beat some shit into First Recon but for the life of him he couldn’t get his mind of the kid. He had never been the most paternal of people, had never seen the idea of having a wife and kids and a family off base that ideal and yet he felt slightly _off_ at how easily he had adjusted to someone else sleeping in his house.

He supposed he could just chalk it down to being back, after all he was used to sleeping in a grave next to six other guys. He wasn’t exactly used to being alone.

 

 

 

 

He didn’t really have time to process that thought or very much as exactly four days after the kid had disappeared he was back again leaning on the step in the sunshine looking board. There was what looked like a bag at his feet and a rather healthy bruise on his wrist.

“What?” he said looking down and hoping that nobody he knew would see this, the last thing he needed was Colbert coming by and telling everyone Godfather was soft. Or worse Person (even he knew the motherfucker never shut up).

“Morning” the kid drawled back staggering to his feet. He was still in the same faded jeans and scuffed boots than before, though at least this time his shirt was different, it was a long sleeved black jumper that Stephen was pretty sure showed off his ribs.

Did this kid not like food or something?

Another quick glance confirmed his original assessment. The kid was high as a god damn kite.

“Your high kid get lost” he snapped pushing past him, the kid’s eyes were red rimmed and he was sniffing slightly his hands trembling. Like hell was he gonna light up anywhere near his house. California had other places for that.

“Avery” he tries again his voice a thin reed of sound, the kid sounds nervous “My names Avery”

“Avery get lost” he says back flipping through the mail and the kid just blinks biting his lip and looking increasingly younger than he already is.

“I can stop” he says carefully and Stephen’s not sure if he wants to laugh or hit him, he knows the kid isn’t going to stop, Joe made that promise to him and his parents nearly every day and he could never stop, he doesn’t hold out much hope of the kid- _Avery_ -doing the same thing.

“Your foster folks throw you out?” he asks eyeing the bag at Avery’s feet. He shrugs in response “Group home” he says bitterly “Lucky number 23” at Stephen’s look he shrugs “I have discipline problems and issues with authority”

That doesn’t surprise him in the slightest.

“Why are you here?” he asks trying not to show his interest even though he is.

Very.

Avery shrugs again “You left me your number…and I remembered your house number…” he takes that moment to run his fingers through his blonde hair looking younger for a brief second than he goes around pretending.

“I got thrown out” he said finally. “They don’t understand…”

“That you’re a drug addict?”

Avery rolled his eyes “I can stop anytime” he said frowning “Addicts can’t stop-I can stop”

He really doesn’t know why he lets the kid in again. He doesn’t know why he keeps doing this, why he’s putting some sort of trust in a kid he knows has a problem that won’t stop. He’s a fucking Recon Marine he shouldn’t care about this kid and the screwed up mess he’s gotten himself in, but there’s something about letting him walk away to do God knows what, God knows where makes him feel out of sorts.

So he lets the kid in.

 

 

 

 

It becomes a force of habit over the next two weeks, Avery’s always there whenever he comes home from whatever he was doing. Even with leave he still has to organise the command of the unit. Colbert was still serving, Fick was gone, and Person and Hasser were both gone, Trombley was still there and there was the rest of them scattered all across the unit. It was a fucking mess.

If Avery was taking anything then he was showing no signs. It was a strange relationship coming home to somebody who slept in the spare bedroom and came in the morning reaching for the coffee, making two meals three times a day.

“Did you lose your voice due to drugs?” Avery asked one day scribbling red stars on a piece of paper. “No” he said feeling rather offended. He hadn’t gone through hell fighting off throat cancer for nothing.

“Throat cancer” he explained but Avery only rolled his eyes “Yeah but how?” he asked and Stephen shrugged because he didn’t know the answer to that himself.

He didn’t mention school, Avery never mentioned school so why should he? But for the first couple of tentative weeks coming home just seemed easier because he knew he wasn’t going to be alone.

That probably meant he was going soft.

Just what he needed.

 

 

 

 

And then it all fell to shit.

 

 

 

 

It happened gradually. He had been naïve and foolish to think that Avery would ever stop something that had become so natural to him, he was used to waking up wanting drugs and he had enough memories about his brother to know what withdrawal looked like and Avery hadn’t been suffering it. He had been carrying on like normal, no pain, no cravings. Just because he was home at a decent hour didn’t mean that the kid wasn’t shooting up when Stephen wasn’t around.

He should have known. He was the leader of one of the most deadly units in the entire US Military. He should have seen it, hell he had been trained not to miss it.

He had come home not more than forty-eight hours before he was due to go back into theatre (it was thankfully not a full length tour just a three month thing that would probably result in more training than it did any real mission) and he was hoping to figure out what the hell he was going to do with the boy who was now (he suspected) a permanent fixture in his life.

He didn’t want to think about how much he liked that idea, that road was far too dangerous.

He knew what was going on the moment he stepped in through the front door.

There was a girl half slung out on his couch, in nothing but lacy underwear. She was about sixteen with brown hair that was wet and hazy brown eyes. Avery was slumped between her legs his expression blissed out.

And then he saw the lines on his (expensive) glass coffee table.

“Get the fuck out” he snapped using his strength to pull the kid (how easy it was to stop using his name) out from between her legs and nearly throwing him into the fireplace.

The girl pouted but threw her ripped top on, her leggings and shoes clunking, reaching for the packets of white paper, she winked at Avery before staggering out.

The kid stared from where he was still leaning against the fireplace breathing heavily.

“Well I tried” he said breathing through his nose his blonde hair sticking upwards.

“Stop” Stephen said breathing heavily too watching him “You said you’d stop” he didn’t even know why he was feeling so _betrayed_ only that he was and it hurt.

The kid swallowed hands shaking, his chest heaving up and down with the aftershocks of what he had shoved up his nose. He looked around desperate for something but then he straightened himself out breathing loudly.

“I lied” he said finally, face devoid of any emotions.

“Just get out” it came out fast and furious, he wasn’t entirely sure how someone reacted to coming home to find their house turned into a teenage hash den.

And Avery did, he didn’t bother with his stuff, the boots and the ripped jeans and the books that were strewn across the spare bedroom left alone. When he left he was wearing dirty smudged converse, dark jeans and a blue t-shirt and grey hoodie.

 

 

 

 

He didn’t bother coming back.

 

 

 

 

He went to war, went back to being Godfather as easy as it was before, ordered more men into danger, watched as they came back and had to deal with the division utter incompetence-to be fair it wasn’t as bad as OIF standards but it wasn’t great.

He had left the key under the threshold. The kid wasn’t a complete idiot, if he wanted it was easy for him to get back into the apartment.

It was a long three months of training.

Avery wasn’t there when he got back.

He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting.

 

 

 

 

It would be a year before he heard from Avery again.

 

 

 

 

He got the phone call a year later in December two days after the whole of Recon was allowed a nine month relief furlough. The combined invasion of the Middle East and the ever increasing presence of the Army and the Air Force in every mission they were offered meant that finally a lot of the Marine’s had amount of time to spend with their family.

He supposes it helps if you actually have family.

Anyway he gets the call at 3.45am. It’s loud and pierces through his sleep and he grits his teeth because he had only been back two hours.

“What?” he snarls, (God help him if this is some young drunken corporal trying to see if they can wake ‘Godfather’ up in the morning as a dare)

“Mr Ferrando?” comes the timid voice of some female down the line. He really hopes that this isn’t a cold caller because he really won’t be held responsible for his actions.

“Yes” he grits out reaching for his watch just too double check the time.

It is indeed 3.46am.

“My name is Dr Wilson from St Mary’s Hospital, A Mr Avery Montgomery had your number on him when he brought here and he said to ring you, was pretty insistent on it actually”

He sits up with a start several emotions flying through him with such a force that it literally leaves him in shock, there’s annoyance first and foremost followed by a horrifying sense of shock followed by relief (because he had lost sleep worrying about the kid more than he would care to admit) and then the worry that slammed into him with more force than he had ever expected to feel.

“What happened?” he asked reaching for his jeans which were slung over the edge of the bed. He already knew the answer.

“An overdose of drugs” the Doctor said her voice carefully bland and Stephen’s heart sank because he just _fucking knew_ it.

“Is he dead?” he asked carefully not really sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“No” came the reply “But it would be helpful if you got down here as soon as you can, he’s technically still a minor…” she paused “He’s refusing to speak to the police about his girlfriend until you get here”

Girlfriend?

“I’m on my way” he said hanging up, it took him a second to control his breathing before he could move again.

 

 

 

 

When he arrived dawn was just beginning to break. Avery’s doctor didn’t even look like a doctor, she looked barely old enough to be legal. She silently led him to the room past the officer that was leaning against the wall.

“He’ll need to be interview about the woman he was brought in with” the doctor explained her ponytail bobbing as she walked.

“What happened to her?” he asked, the doctor looked grimly at him and he sighed again. Jesus Christ.

Avery was half awake when he came in, he was hooked up to an IV but had curled over arms wrapped around his stomach, whole body trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline and withdrawal.

When he caught sight of Stephen those blue eyes widened slightly in shock he didn’t bother wiping of his face.

“You came?” he asked his voice hoarse from disuse and his eyes circled in red.

“Yeah you little fucker” he rasped back, even if his vocal cords hadn’t been shot to shit a long time ago he couldn’t have raised his voice in the darkness permeating the room. “Of course I came”

“Jenna died” Avery confessed voice breaking “I didn’t even want to do the joint and she insisted, we went to bed in some shitty motel and I woke up the next day and she was dead” he carried on whispers tripping themselves up in a rush to complete the story.

“I just smoked everything we had because I didn’t want to see the body”

He gently reached back to stroke the strands of blonde back from the clammy face and Avery shuddered again as another wave of nausea hit him.

“’M sorry” he whimpered again eyes falling shut despite the attempts to keep them open.

“You have to stop now” Stephen said gently running a finger down Avery’s bony wrist-Jesus the kid was even more skinner than he was before his bones standing out in his pale clammy skin.

“Ok” Avery said eyes still shut. “Help me stop?” it was a question when it never should have be.

“You know I will”

 

 

 

 

He checks Avery into rehab-a good one with lots of clean air and running and shit that will do the body good (or so he reads) before they even leave the hospital, the cops take a statement but with one body in the morgue they take Avery’s word as truth.

Avery’s social worker finally makes an appearance though Avery refuses to see her, the hospital bar her at his request and he’s glad because that’s one headache they both don’t need.

Avery’s sixteen, he doubts theirs little much left to do that hasn’t been done already.

It makes him pause because for the better part of two decades he’s been Godfather the Recon Marine with the fucked up voice. He doesn’t have feelings, hell he doesn’t believe in them, he isn’t married, he didn’t want kids, he didn’t want anything other than what he had before that kid had slumped down next to his car.

He’s done some scary shit for this kid, he’s let him stay with him, he may have accidently fed an addiction, he worried himself sick about the kid when he wasn’t there, and he then drove across a state to a hospital to pick up the kid after an overdose and then paid for the kid’s rehab stay.

He’s got a horrible feeling he knows what all those actions lead up to-parenting.

Avery’s sixteen when he goes into rehab. He’s seventeen when he comes out.

He looks fatter (because really one good poke beforehand and the kid would have fallen over) than before, he looks healthier, he sleeps more and stays in more and eats without wondering when his next meal is gonna be.

“I had to talk about my biological parents a lot-once they knew I was in the system” he says when they get in the car. “They wanted to know if I had abandonment issues” he says it like its poison. They don’t speak about his parents again.

He takes Avery back to his place without waiting for anyone.

It’s the only time he allows himself to think it-he wants his son home.

 

 

 

 

Avery’s eighteen when he graduates High School. He has a tutor and when he has nothing to become addicted to he uses the brain that kept him alive for so many years and uses it studying.

Avery’s nineteen when he comes home and tells him he’s joined the Marine’s “Don’t look at me like that” he says that night “I didn’t do it to piss you off-and anyway even if I did apply for Recon or whatever you wouldn’t be my direct supervisor, you wouldn’t be in the field with me or anything”

He might wanna make sure the kid knows about the chain of command before he drops him off at Parris Island.

At least if he managed to get the kid in his unit the chances are he can keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t get himself blown up for the hell of it. He has enough trouble dealing with Colbert he doesn’t need Avery on top of that trying to get himself blown up for the sake of some garden or whatever the story was.

When Avery graduates he’s there, in the back and out of uniform so nobody can see him but when he gets home Avery hugs him nonetheless.

He should have known the kid would have made it into Recon with flying colures in everything. Avery is just too smug for words. He’s twenty when they’re both deployed.

The whole Force is getting depleted. Only a handful of the guys who were with him in 2003 are here now which means he has to carefully change teams.

He puts Avery and another guy he graduated with in with Colbert whose still Team One Leader (and who he trusts), sticks Trombley in the back of the Humvee like always and hopes that will be enough. Avery’s like the rest of them-blood hungry, desperate to prove themselves, arrogant cocky motherfuckers the lot of them.

So really nothing’s changed.

 

 

 

 

Until one day it does.

 

 

 

 

He hears from Alpha what happened. IED explosion over Team One’s Humvee, it looked like litter cluttering the side of the road (something they’ve seen a lot of lately) and the RTO (the new guy) had driven over it like they always do.

There’s nothing but radio silence for a long time, time enough for him and the rest of the Battalion to get down to where the line had stopped.

“Where the hell are they?” he asks Sixta looking around for the vehicle-this is why fathers and sons should never be in the same unit regardless of blood. He had never though that this would happen cocky and overly confident that Avery was smart and resourceful enough to look out for himself like he always did.

Shit. This is his fault, he should have done _something_ to prevent this from happening.

The Humvee is smoking slightly the front of it smashed in and burning in the heat smoke filling the sky blocking the rest of the doors.

And then finally Cpl Trombley speaks through the radio the smoke still preventing him from being seen. The men are keeping their distance but their all tensed and ready to move.

“Two…” his voice is shaky and it frails halfway through the sentence, but it’s a sign of life and that’s all it takes for Lilley, Espera and the Doc to move into action.

Where the fuck is Avery?

And then he sees it, it could be Colbert (because the two of them do look frighteningly alike) but he thinks it’s Avery who staggers up gun in hand to meet them, he’s shaking with adrenaline but he still manages to catch Stephen’s eye and twist his face into a grimace. He’s holding someone upwards who seems to be the main source of the blood covering him a large piece of shrapnel embedded in someone’s arm.

It’s Colbert.

 

 

 

 

It could have been a hell of a lot worse. Team one’s RTO has his leg blown off below the knee but is alive and conscious when he’s evacuated. The other guy on the 50-Cal whose name he doesn’t remember is alive but bleeding and burned and goes with him. Trombley is suffering nothing more but whiplash and a concussion and both Bryan and Aubin agree he can stay providing he’s not firing anything for twenty-four hours. Colbert’s shrapnel wound is little more than a deep scratch, the only issue is that he needs a blood transfusion but he doesn’t need to be evacuated. Avery is nothing but cuts and scrapes all along his hands face from where the glass shattered.

Colbert’s blood type is B. Turns out so is Avery. He gives the go ahead and they do the transfusion there and then, Colbert and Avery are then monitored and then if all goes ahead they should be able to continue as normal.

There not as fast paced as they were in 2003.

Aubin gives him the report twenty-four hours later that the three of them will make a full recovery and will be fit for duty before they head off on the next assault.

“Something wrong?” he asks when Aubin stalls at the entrance to the tent.

“Colbert was type B blood sir” he says finally “Montgomery the same” he shrugs “It’s probably coincidence but…it’s a blood type combatable with father and son”

“What?” he asks looking up from the latest map mind going blank. Aubin shrugs. “It’s probably a coincidence, but…” he tilts his head to the side before breaking off looking embarrassed.

“Speak freely Lieutenant” he says through gritted teeth the tone he uses when it’s clear ‘Godfather’ is pissed off in place.

Aubin shrugs again. “They could be father and son, Colbert’s pushing forty, Montgomery is early twenties they do look alike in some regards…the chances however…”

He nods along mind racing “You can go now” he says through numb lips and Aubin nods “Lieutenant” he calls as he turns “Don’t go shouting this around-Montgomery has promise and Colbert’s been here a long time”

After he’s left he sits there for a long time.

 

 

 

 

He needs Avery’s personal file. If there’s a possibility…but there couldn’t could there? He put him in Colbert’s Humvee in the backseat at his express request-if it was possible that Colbert did have a kid he had given away wouldn’t he know about it? Surely he wouldn’t ride along with the kid?

He remembers Avery’s file from his enlistment, the birth certificate hadn’t been among the documents given due to the real one being hidden, the one he had had simply listed him as having no parents (who had rights over him) and that had been that.

If there had been a real birth certificate-one with mother and father written one it then he needed to see it.

It takes him one short phone call (when they have Wi-Fi-there held up in a school which doesn’t need blowing up and it has a fax machine) and two weeks of waiting for the damn thing when it arrived. The real birth certificate had been buried at the mother’s request, the note attached said-she didn’t need a reminder of the son that she abandoned probably.

He flipped it open.

‘AVERY ALEXANDER MONTGOMARY’

‘BIOLOGICAL MOTHER-ANGELA JACQUELINE MONTGOMARY’

‘BIOLOGICAL FATHER-BRADLEY COLBERT’

He didn’t take his eyes of the signature next to the father. It was the same he saw on Colbert’s re-enlistment papers every time he came back. He had known about Avery. He had given Avery away.

He swore loudly. He liked Colbert-out of all of the grunts he had been the one who had been the most capable of thinking on his feet. He had been the one who could be trusted to take his team through shit and back. He had put Avery in Brad’s team because he knew Colbert was the only one he could trust with _his_ son’s protection and all this time he had had father and son in the same Humvee.

Fathers and sons couldn’t serve in the same unit. Everyone knew that which meant that either Colbert left Recon or Avery did. And right now he couldn’t think objectively enough to decide.

In the end he just asked Sixta.

 

 

 

 

“You needed me sir?” the Sergeant Major asked upon noticing that he was alone in a classroom while the rest of the men were sleeping.

“What do you think of Montgomery?” he asked indicating that he sit.

“He’s good, not stupid, not desperate to get himself killed like some of them are, takes orders well, the grooming standard is upheld why?”

“What do you think of Colbert?” it was stupid that he knew the answer before the question was out of his mouth.

“Colbert’s…well Colbert…he’s the…Iceman” Sixta said-if he was confused with the way this conversation was going he didn’t show it.

“Why you asking me this sir?” ah and there it was.

He slid the folder over to Sixta who picked it up flipping it open to the birth certificate.

“Shit sir” he said heavily. “This wasn’t flagged when he came into Reconnaissance?”

“It was buried at the mother’s request or some other liberal bullshit reason, but either way I didn’t know about it till Aubin mentioned that they had the same blood type”

“So what ya gonna do? You can’t keep them both in the same unit”

And didn’t he know it.

 

 

 

 

Maybe he was biased because he had seen Avery at his worst and had picked him up from rock bottom, maybe it was because he had seen all the good things in the kid, maybe it was because he thought of Avery as his own more than he knew was professional, because right now all he could think about was breaking Brad Colbert’s nose.

“I need Colbert in here alone” he said finally looking at Sixta “I need it done discreetly -Headquarters are gonna need to know whether he knew who Montgomery was”

Sixta nodded “I don’t think he did sir, Colbert’s a lot of things but he’s not an idiot” he paused “He does have another son” he said finally “If you get Montgomery in here then you need to tell him he has a half-brother”

Fucking hell.

 

 

 

 

When Colbert comes in looking sleep rumpled, confused and then professional all in that order Stephen feels like screaming. How the hell did he not see the resemblance? That first night he had noticed how Avery’s mask had been like Colbert’s and yet it hadn’t clicked that Colbert could be his father.

He hadn’t really thought about his parents to be honest.

“Sir?” he asks looking confused.

And something inside of him snaps.

“You have five minutes to convince me you didn’t know about Montgomery” he snaps taking a deep pleasure at the way Colbert snaps to attention at the mere tone of his voice. He’s perfected that over his career and he’s rather proud of the fear it inspires.

“Sir?” Colbert asks but he’s already pushed across the file.

Colbert opens it. His eyes alight on his own name and signature.

And then he breaks.

He watches as Colbert’s face goes several shades whiter. He swallows the mask slipping. And then in the second that the Iceman is gone he can see something in Colbert’s eyes. It’s undeniable paternal.

This is Avery Montgomery’s father.

“Sir…” Colbert swallows heavily “Sir I swear I had no idea…I gave him up…I didn’t…”

“You have a Cpl Avery Montgomery in your Humvee, you must know he fits in the time frame and you don’t think that there could be a possibility that he could be the baby you gave up nearly twenty-one years ago?”

Colbert closes his eyes resignation on his face, “I didn’t think…I haven’t thought…”

“Jesus Christ Sergeant” he snarls anger burning through his veins. Colbert just keeps his eyes closed. “One of you has to go you know that, I’m gonna have to pull him in and tell him you know”

Colbert nods looking sick.

“You need to tell him about your other son, the very least he can do is here that from you”

He doesn’t doubt that Avery won’t want to hear anything Brad has to say to him but he can damn well put the idea out there.

“Get out” he snaps finally resisting the urge to punch Colbert in the face.

 

 

 

 

Avery comes by no less than five seconds later sent in by Sixta who must have seen Colbert leave and had some sense to send in Avery and get this over with as soon as he can.

“Are you ok?” Avery says referring to the way they normally speak to each other when their alone without the other ranks.

“Sit down kid” he says heavily. “I need to tell you something”

Once the news is out there Avery stares into space for a long time.

“So” he says finally coming out of his trance. “I guess this changes the seating plan in the Humvee”

And then he catches Stephen’s expression.

He’s a quick kid, he read up on what could happen if someone found out about where he was living.

“Someone has to leave the Recon Marine’s?” he asks breathing heavily again and Stephen suddenly has a flashback to that night where Avery had taken drugs and was leaning against the fireplace completely overwhelmed and exhausted.

He looks the same now.

“Can I go?” he asks finally his voice smooth and composed and so unlike Avery that it threw him.

“Yeah” he shouldn’t be this causal with one of the Marine’s because fundamentally that’s what Avery is but his whole attitude to this is slightly scary.

 

 

 

 

He watches Avery leave even standing up to follow him. Colbert moves slightly from where he’s leaning against the Humvee, Avery walks past him and then pauses, turns around and punches him straight in the jaw. It comes as such as shock that Colbert falls to the ground. Most of the men are in stunned shock as Avery his him again and again and again.

Colbert doesn’t move, he seems content to just lie there and let his son pummel the shit out of him until he’s forcibly pulled off him by other men.

Colbert’s still lying on the ground when Avery’s dragged off him. His LT later comes to tell him that Avery broke three knuckles and his wrist punching Colbert and Colbert’s nose is broken-one more punch and his jaw would have been fractured to.

He really shouldn’t be proud.

If he looks at this professionally Colbert has to stay. He’s done this longer than Avery, he’s more respected and he has a lot more experience. Personally he wants Colbert gone just for the damage that he’s done, 23 foster homes, a drug addiction, an overdose, a dead girl and all because Colbert didn’t want his career to change or whatever reason it was.

He knows he should judge but the whole thing is infuriating.

He doesn’t have to ask Avery to leave-next day his transfer papers are on his desk and the kid stays as far away from Brad as he can.

When they get back to Pendleton a week later the mission completed, all men back alive and well, Avery disappears into the crowd.

 

 

 

 

He isn’t seen again.

 

 

 

 

It’s another two years before either him or Colbert hear from him again.

 

 

 

 

Stephen gets one text in the space of those two years, coming in at 3.AM on December 25th of the second year. It’s short, it’s too the point and any reply is ignored.

‘I’M STILL CLEAN’ is written in block capitals.

Well at least that’s something.

He think he should be use to the crap the kid’s pulled over the years, thinks he should be used to the disappearing acts. Nearly everyone knows that Colbert is Avery’s father and he tries to act professional and not rip the Sergeant to shreds for answers that he’s not getting. He knows Colbert’s only seen him once and that was when he turned up to speak to Colbert’s other son.

He thinks his name is Ryan.

 

 

 

 

Some days he wonders whether or not he should have left Avery in the car lot last night and not bothered, whether he should have ignored the phone call and left him in hospital. He also knows he doesn’t regret taking the kid in and cleaning him up. He knows why he’s so territorial whenever he’s around Colbert who looks just as frustrated and guilty as he feels.

 

 

 

 

And then Avery shows up again.

 

 

 

 

He knows because when he opens the door to his apartment Avery’s shit is all over the place again.

He’s outside leaning against the building tracing the top of his water bottle sitting on the wall.

“Sorry” he says when Stephen sits down next to him, he looks older, looks skinnier, and looks like he needs more sleep but he’s here healthy and alive.

“Stop the disappearing acts” he says back relief coiling in his stomach. Avery just nods “I went to see Ryan” he says “And then I just needed some time to figure out what the hell I was gonna do next”

He pauses “I didn’t use, thought about it, even bought some but in the end I just couldn’t” he shrugs again as if the fact that he used to baffles him.

“Brad…” he pauses his expression twisting. “It aint gonna be anything more than it was in Iraq-I told him that, Ryan’s easy and Ana aint that bad”

He caught Stephen’s quizzical look “Nate’s kid? Brad’s ex LT? Ring any bells for you?”

Holy shit Fick and Colbert???

He was gonna need a strong drink after this he could already tell.

“I don’t need him to be a dad, I think I got a pretty good one already”

He grinned then that same real grin he had only ever smiled a handful of times before.

“Yeah I think you do” he said back grinning because this was Avery-“You’re my son and I love you”

Avery nodded looking down still smiling “I want pizza” he said finally “And we never speak of this tender moment again”

“Rodger that” he says smiling back. It’s not perfect, it’s not normal, but it’s as close as he thinks their ever gonna get.

 

 

 

 

It seems that finally everything has come full circle.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's it...if you guys have like any prompt ideas with any kid then you can send them in-my schedules pretty tight at the second with college but if you want I will add them to my list. 
> 
> Again any inaccuracies, spelling or context wise I apologise. 
> 
> Feedback is heavily welcomed. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has viewed, kudosed, bookmarked or made a comment on this series it means a lot.


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